


with holes in my heart

by fullyuris



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Adult Content, Animal Death, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Slow Burn, Surreal horror, Unreliable Narrator, first person POV, implied horror, subtle horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 21:45:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13796964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullyuris/pseuds/fullyuris
Summary: A man, his twin, and his housemate find the true meaning of love.It’s just that sometimes, finding the meaning of love means watching those you love die before your eyes, sometimes not even noticing when it happens.





	with holes in my heart

**Author's Note:**

> uhh not all the tags really are about this specific chapter, but do take in mind that this is not going to be a fun story
> 
> warnings for this chapter: unreliable narrator, surreal horror
> 
> there will be major character death eventually. do not get attached.

D.

Fay D. Flourite.  
Yuui D. Flourite.

It’s early in the morning when I wake- before my alarm, for once- and I’m stuck thinking on the triviality of names. Sure, I was _probably_ named Yuui by our parents- that is, of both mine and my brother’s, of course-, but our parents had left us on the unfortunate doorstep of an orphanage with scribbling handwriting on a homemade attempt of a birth certificate.

Just one, too. We didn’t get one for each of us, but one to share and for the caretakers of that place to decipher who was which child.

Yuui M. Flourite.  
Fay M. Flourite.

With no idea upon which twin was named what, we’d both grown rather fond of going by either, exchanging them at want as the days passed by. Wasn’t much else to do there, anyway, when money ends up too thin for any new technology or toys, but we’d made a compromise to the adults around us not to trade off our middle names. No matter who was who, I was to remain with a D, and he was to remain with an M.

Though letters are hardly names, but tell that (again) to our parents. We’d come up with names for ourselves, of what those initials might stand for. The period after the letter on the certificate _had_ to mean it was something more, right? That made sense to our childish minds.

D was for Dessert, Daydreaming, and Ditto.  
M was for Magic, Moonman, and Mimic.

Ditto and Mimic, because we’d copied each other. He was like me, and I was like him.

_Beep, beep, beep!_

The alarm goes off and I’m Dwelling (that’s a new one, hmm) upon old Memories (I’ll tell that one to Fay, too), lazily tossing my hand over the edge of my bed to tap at my cellphone and shut it up.

Sure, I was awake already, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to bother getting up quite yet. I can see the sunlight that comes in through the small cracks around the concrete and wood at my windows, and I suppose that means today’s going to be as good as any other sunny day to go shopping for food.

There’s a scratching at the door leading downstairs to my room, a soft sound of nails dragging across wood. It’s a better sign than the sun was to get up, especially when the light doesn’t exactly get very far beyond the windows and surely doesn’t make it to my bed. No warmth, but it’s not in my eyes when I’m sleeping, so I can’t complain too much.

Standing up from my bed, I stretch, glancing down upon myself in all my glory to see how yesterday’s damages are healing. Not that I sleep nude, mind you, but when only men reside in your home it’s quite easy to take the bachelor’s route of sleepwear. Less laundry, you know?

The bruise across my left hip is healing nicely. I’d gotten it from slamming into the corner of a dresser as I tried to creep by it, getting the sharp end right in the soft part of my side.

God, did Fay laugh. Well, he was Yuui on that particular day, but the laughter that came out was all purely him.

Mirth. Mock.  
Those aren’t quite as good. Fay’s said before he doesn’t like anything with a rude connotation. Doesn’t like how some words have a victim, have a target. 

I lean down to my phone and grab the keys next to it, straightening out with a yawn to unlock my bedroom door. If you could call it a door, really, but I slip the key in anyway and step out to the rest of my small basement apartment.

Hah, I truly am a basement dweller, aren’t I? Not that I’m ashamed, when it means my brother gets the good bedroom upstairs.

Dweller really is a fitting name, isn’t it?

Yuui Dweller Flourite.

Hmm.

The scratching from upstairs starts up again, alongside the noise of something heavy resting against the door, and it’s time to hurry up. Brush my teeth, use the bathroom- again, lack of true walls are only an inconvenience when you have company, and we _never_ do- and then get dressed.

The jeans I slip on are old and destroyed, complete with frayed strings hanging off at the ends, and the shirt is some long sleeve tank-top that reeks of gasoline. Kind of gross- or, rather, _extremely_ gross- but it’s not laundry day and the machine in the house broke months ago. I’m not inconveniencing Fay to go to the laundromat when I can wait a few more days for us to head down.

I hit the button at the bottom of the stairs to unlock the door up top- a necessary convenient contraption- and I’m gifted with the sight of Fay staring down at me from where he stands in the kitchen upstairs.

He takes a clumsy step forward, almost as if he’s tripped and is about to go tumbling down the stairs, and continues trudging his way down as he comes to greet me.

But I hadn’t unlocked the final door between my apartment and the rest of the house- again, if you truly could call it that.

I glance at my brother with a smile and give him a once over.

 _Didn’t you wear that yesterday?_ I ask with a pop of my hip and a joking smile. As if I can really talk about being nasty with what I have on, anyway.

Fay’s hand slips through one set of bars that compose the door, reaching for me. His jaw is slack, pressed up against the metal with his cheeks squished. He looks tired, so very tired, and I almost feel bad for joking with him even that much.

He’s always been the more sensitive of us. I lift my hand to grasp his, as a silent apology, and he grips me tightly between his fingers, pulling me closer. He tries to pull my hand through the bars, and an odd expression comes across his face when my fingers get too close.

…. I probably smell terrible, and the gasoline isn’t helping.

 _Sorry, hold on. I’ll take a shower now._ I say with a light laugh, pulling my hand forcefully away from his own. He reaches again through the bars with a groan, a low whine of how I’m walking away right now, but I don’t turn around to look.

The “bathroom” of this apartment is under the back of the stairs, and I discard my clothes again (and the boxers I’d slept in) to pick up a barrel of water I refill daily to keep down here. Another thing of convenience, honestly, but I’d rather this than imposing.

Dreary.

The water is a murky dark color as I peer into it, and I can’t help but cringe. 

Disgusting.

Fay probably wouldn’t even mind if I head upstairs and take a shower- no, he wouldn’t, not when he’s so accommodating-, but it’s hardly worth it to bother. I find the perforated (what a word) cap I had set aside and screw it on over the lid of the barrel.

Well. ‘Barrel’ is a polite word for it, really, implying it’s bigger than the red plastic canister it truly is. I tip it over my head as soon as that cap’s on as tight as it will go, the cool water both refreshing and nauseating all at once.

There’s a second container of water waiting for me when this one’s inevitably not enough, but I can feel something in my hair and sliding down my legs. Probably dirt, yeah, or hairballs my mop of a hairstyle decided to conjure up, and I don’t even bother looking in the mirror (or down at myself) as I run my fingers through my locks and over my calves.

There’s a spot on the wall where the light peeks through the concrete- a thin horizontal strip where the sunlight shines through.

D is for Dance, for recitals of impromptu routines. I can remember it clearly, of being in a smaller part of the city we were raised in where the grass would grow in spontaneous patches wherever it could, and the grey concrete of those sidewalks where no one would bother us as we twirled and bowed.

 _Brother…_ Fay is whining again.

One container should be enough for today. If the smell of that shirt doesn’t overpower any odor I have left, it’s far too late for that second barrel to help me anyway. The towel hangs on a string by the wall, quickly tugged down and wrapped around my legs, one at a time, to dry them off.

 _Which name do you want today, anyway?_ I may as well ask when he’s calling me ‘brother’ right now instead of either name- he’s probably thinking of it, too. _Fay? Yuui?_

Unhelpfully, he lets out a frustrated groan at them both. Sure, he might be the more sophisticated and brilliant of us- where would I have ever learned ‘perforated’ without him- but it’s my antics that keep the day interesting.

 _Want us to **both** be Fay?_ That’s always fun, and he hesitates long enough that I smile. That’s a yes, then!

My skin’s set, and the towel goes into my hair. The cloth feels crunchy and stiff, and so I try not to keep it on my head much longer. It goes back onto the drying string- the only occupant of said string, ever- and soon that kerosene shirt is back on.

M is for Moderate, Mild, and Mellow.  
Fay’s waiting so patiently, hands loosely gripped around the bars and face still squished in the space between.

We’re orphans, alone against the world, and I’m so glad to have a brother like him to cover my back and keep my pace. Someone would probably say we’re too dependent on each other, but I can hardly think of ways to grow as we did and be anything else. He’s been there for me when no one else has, just as I’m there for him.

No mortal hand could tear the likes of us apart.

I slip on my socks and shoes, hoist a messenger bag over my shoulder, and lock up my bedroom before moving to where Fay is. His hand finds mine as it had before, but now that I’m clean and somewhat freshly washed I find that it’s a softer sort of touch.

There’s a shadow in the doorway from the kitchen upstairs. Neither of us really need to look to see who’s there- not that I could even if I’d have liked to, with those locked bars between us.

I hadn’t spoken of our other houseguest yet, have I?

Hmm.

There’s a reason for that.

He’s a very nice man- and handsome, too- but he’s not _family_ the same way Fay and I are.

As if he’s aware I’m thinking of him, his hand lifts to the doorframe. When Fay knocks, he sounds like a cat, scratching as though to alert you he’s there; but Him, his hand drags along the surface of the rough, unpolished surface of wood, the heel of his palm occasionally pushing against it as though the muffled version of a knuckled rapping.

Fay turns from me, his hand slipping from my own. No words need to be said for us both to know this is our housemate scolding us for just how long we’ve taken, and he makes his way up the stairs as I unlock the gate and relock it behind me.

 _Coming~!_ I flash a smile as I follow up behind my brother, looking at them both head on only after locking the basement door as well- look, raised as Fay and I were, can you question how secure we keep our belongings?

Not that either one of us has particularly much to lose, but growing up with nothing leads to a difficult time parting ways with what little we had.

And as for Ashu- I mean _Him_ , it’s not much different. He’d grown up in the orphanage we had, but ten years our elder. Even as a teenager to twin prankster children he was kind, and when he turned eighteen and became considered an adult, he did his best to adopt us.

Unsuccessfully, mind you. The system was rigged against us, and it took him until he was 25 until he could convince those necessary that he was a fit guardian.

He’s never asked us to consider him a father, nor did he insist upon any such other familial roles. He’s just, well. Him.

But he’s been _different_ lately.

He’s five steps to the door already, leaving us behind.

 _Are you headin’ out to work, then?_ I ask out to him, and his head bobs in a silent affirmation. It was nice, calling us upstairs just to say farewell, but most days we don’t even see him before he scurries off to his work.

It’s part of the same full time job he picked up to adopt me and Fay into the household and to show he could financially support us, but now a few promotions and a couple of upper management changes have lead to him spending majority of his waking time at work.

Off he goes first thing in the morning, back he comes last thing in the night.

I wave to him and Fay, unknowing what else to do, mimics the movement. It doesn’t feel like we ever do enough for him in return. We can’t exactly pay him back for what he’s done for us, financially or emotionally, and he’s always stopped us from trying.

It’ll never be enough, but I can’t stop myself from rushing over to open the door for him. It’s a nicer show of appreciation than waving from the kitchen is, and he stops in front of me to peer down through the part of his black hair.

The air is silent and hangs with a musty scent. I don’t move, I don’t breathe. Something is odd with him, and I don’t know how to make it better. Every interaction feels weirdly stale, weirdly foreign.

He moves on without comment, stepping out onto the driveway.

I close the door behind him.

Fay, my sweet, beloved brother, has relocated himself to the kitchen sink by now, watching birds that bounce and hop on the branches of a tree no more than right beyond the glass.

He doesn’t look towards me as I fall into place behind him, looking over his shoulder at that small sense of wildlife. I know what he’s thinking about without him even having to say it, and honestly I’m no better at keeping my mind from wandering to similar avenues.

It’s.

Well.

Family will never quite mean the same to us as it does to others.

 _He_ \- our guardian, or brother, or housemate, or whatever he is- won’t ever be truly family, and I’m quite certain he doesn’t want to be considered as such. There’s a bond between the three of us, but it’s not conventional. It’s not what others have, or what people dream of having when they grow up.

And as for romantic partners, I don’t believe my brother and I could ever really separate enough to find our ‘other halves’. We’re happy enough as we are, by each other’s sides.

I don’t really believe in love, anyway.

The concept seems far too idealistic for the society we live in.

M is for Mobs, for the glorified criminal family you surround yourself with and gladly die for. M is for Marriage, the family you make for yourself and have even the law protect.

D is for.

...

I think both of us are starting to get antsy just watching the day pass us by, so we should go off and start doing our daily routine. Wander the town, make sure the house is stocked with food for all three of us- especially since our caretaker never has much energy left when he returns for more complicated meals-, see if we can find a job for at least one of us. Preferably both of us, actually, if we could get the same shift, but I know that’s kind of asking for a lot in this economy.

It feels odd to follow after His footsteps, even if he’s undoubtedly gone by now, so I lead the way to the side door that leads out towards the lawn and sidewalk. We picked this house special for all its perks, and being on the corner of an intersection with easy walking in every direction is just one of them.

Today, perhaps we’ll take the left road and travel towards that organic supermarket. It’s fairly expensive, but we haven’t been down that way in a week or two and I’m starting to believe I’m the only one in this household who cares for real food. Frozen packages can only get you so far, and-

Fay trips over the step out the door, his fatigue clearly getting the better of him. I wasn’t paying attention, either, oh gods, I was looking away and daydreaming again.

Disappointment. Disgrace.

He lifts himself off the ground in sharp movements, one of his arms twitching in uneven, janky movements. He must have pulled something and didn’t want to tell me. Didn’t want to worry me.

I have to help him anyway. There’s bile already in my throat at the concept of him being hurt even in this way.

I’m to his side in an instant, my hands going to his shoulders to help push him back and up without touching what might be hurt. He won’t tell me where it is, what’s wrong, where it came from, and his head hangs low as we get him to his feet.

Messy, blonde bangs hide his face, keep whatever he’s feeling away from me.

 _Hey, we don’t have to talk about it._ It’s difficult not to come across as panicked or distressed. He’s my brother, my twin. He shares my face, my DNA, my past, and today we even share names. I don’t know how I could be anything else but emotionally distressed. _Let’s just get going, okay?_

My fingers lift to part his hair and show his face to me. He allows it. but my fingers touch against something wet.

Wet.

It’s dark brown and-

I blink, feeling the moisture between the pads of my fingers. He’s crying, and I’d accidentally brushed too close. I hadn’t noticed it at first, with those clear droplets hiding behind a curtain of blonde.

 _Yuui…_ He says, hair still covering one eye. _Do you believe Ashura still cares for us?_

Maybe. Probably. _Of course he does!_ A trademark smile. I’ve no clue if he wants us out of the house, if that’s what that look meant earlier.

Fay must’ve seen it, too, and decided not to say anything. Must’ve distracted him enough he didn’t notice the step. How do I not notice these things.

He doesn’t say more, but I certainly do. _We can find a job and a different apartment to stay in, just us. He loves us but we don’t need him, we can leave if you don’t feel safe here._

Is that considered backstabbing?

D is for Deceit. I don’t find that I mind that one, either. Lyings done me a lot of good, and I’ll lie to a deity’s face if it means my brother doesn’t have to say anything he’s not ready to.

His tears are getting crusty on my fingertips, and I wipe them onto my jeans to get rid of the texture. 

_We should go._ Fay nods at my words and I take his hand, slowly leading him along to the sidewalk and towards that part of town.

Maybe we can find something nice for us, and make this day one to remember.

Maybe shit won’t be all that bad after all.

I don’t have my hopes up.

There aren’t many people out and about at this time of day. A couple are walking along the road, another is chasing their dog across a lawn. Most people are at work at this hour, and the rest of us don’t have set time limits of where we need to be.

It’d have been nice if the buses ran this way still, though. Something happened higher up in the state, and rumor has it they just wanted to save money and try forcing a hobby of jocking on the inhabitants. The official word is that we don’t have enough residents out this way to bother. 

That’s what I’ve heard around, anyway. I haven’t been one for TV or radio much anymore, what with the propaganda they’re always trying to sell. What can I say, I’m Doubtful. I question how everything can be a life shattering crisis, but yet that’s all I’ve ever heard from the news.

Then again, that’s how it’s always been. Even back as a child, listening in on our neighbor’s TV through open windows, it seemed so.. terrifying. Pointlessly so. The world didn’t end because you chose not to feed your kids a certain food, and the world won’t end over whatever crisis this is.

Though it does mean I miss out on things, like the disappearance of buses.

Fay’s falling behind, so I choose to go a little slower and wait for him. It’s a decent walk, sure, but one that we’ve made plenty before.

He groans, tugging his hand from mine. I hold on tighter to it, looking to see what the problem is, and- oh. It’s the dog, barking up a storm as its owner trips over herself and crawls closer to the jumpy pup. The little guy is seeming to want none of it, and Fay looks like he wants to help.

It’s a cute dog, but we don’t necessarily have time for this. I’d like to be home soon as we can be, so I can start food prepping, but my brother’s tired and distracted and staring towards the loud yips and yelps.

The rest of the street is watching, too, unsure of the situation. I give a gentle tug on Fay’s hand, enough to bring him back, and his attention rolls ever so slowly back to me. He looks like he’s smiling though, probably in apology, and I give him one back.

I don’t know what I’d do without him, but I know in my heart I’ll never have to-

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic in about ~7 years so go ahead and hit me with whatever feedback u got so i can improve this shit


End file.
